


Orange Colored Sky

by babybirdi



Series: In Love and War [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - World War II, Gen, Multi, Oh hey btw for the relationship, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, World War II, bear squad, hella slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdi/pseuds/babybirdi
Summary: It's 1939 in Moscow, and Evgenia Medvedeva is a dancer at Eteri's theatre - during the day, she practices classical, ballroom, and ballet with the other girls. At night, she frequents the jazz and swing hall that takes over when the theatre opens to the public. She's not old enough to be a performer, but she has dreams of taking over the stage one day.Right when those dreams are on the verge of coming true, the world is plunged into World War II. Cue an encounter with foreign spies and double agents, and a task that could put more than just the lives of Evgenia and her friends at stake.Evgenia must decide what side of the war she is really fighting on, and what she would give to see it ended.





	1. May 5th, 1939

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome one and all! I had an epiphany the other night, as I sat down to get to work on another of my fics (All is Fair in Love and War (I'm coming back to it, I promise! Life happened)), and realized that I wanted to explore some new perspectives. I'm a big fan of historical fiction, particularly in relation to World War Two. I decided that as our cast for this story hails from many places of origin, why not tackle that for varying perspectives and sides?
> 
> My characterizations are all fictional based on my personal observations of these people in real life. I am in no way claiming or stating that in such situations like this they would act or react in this way. This is pure fiction. Additionally, that means there may also be some historical inaccuracies in order for some of the story to happen. For the most part, I am aware of these accuracies, but occasionally there may be something unintentional.
> 
> That said, I'm planning to let this take me where it will.
> 
> For the most part, the perspective is going to follow Evgenia's journey from rising theatre star to (spoiler?) international spy.
> 
> Additionally, for the purpose of this story, at least for the beginning everyone speaks mostly in their native language, which does contribute to some issues when it comes to communication. Additionally, one or two characters may be able to speak decently in other languages due to the circumstances they are in. Ex: one who is not Russian is in the country for an extended period, so it makes sense that he has some fluency.

* * *

_I was walking along, minding my business,_

_When out of the orange colored sky,_

_Flash, bam, alakazam,_

_Wonderful you came by._

* * *

_**Moscow** _

His buddies from the university had goaded him into going out, she could tell. He looked uncomfortable, sitting at the table while they all darted back and forth, their loyalty shining through as they took turns checking in on him but also they all wanted to dance with every girl who happened to strut past.

Those were her clues that she was correct in assessing that the entire group was clearly out of their element here. Scholars didn't often find themselves in Eteri's theatre-turned-nightclub after dark.

Then again, Evgenia was not entirely allowed to be here after dark, either, never mind the fact that she was going to be eighteen in November and finally be allowed to have her chance to audition and perform up on the stage of the Sambo. That had been her dream since the first day she'd stayed too late after regular practice and had watched the theatre transform before her eyes from an elegant and demure dance hall into something alive.

She wanted to be a part of that, singing and dancing along to the live band.

She kept watching the university boys weaving through the crowds with a different dance partner almost every time she saw them, but the one boy kept sitting at the table, all by himself, as the minutes dragged into hours and suddenly no one had gone to check on him in some time.

Evgenia typically kept to the edges of the theatre when the Sambo opened up to the public at night, staying more or less out of sight, mostly just enjoying the feel of the atmosphere around her, imaging one day very soon when she would be the one on the stage getting a standing ovation at the end of her performance. She'd begun to plan her debut, what song she would sing, the choreography to go with it…

Not tonight, though. Tonight her gaze kept returning to the table at the back of the room as she made her rounds from one place to another, from backstage to the north wall, from the catwalk to the shadows behind the main doors.

He had not danced with one single person, had hardly moved from his own observations of the dance floor.

Why come to the Sambo at all if you weren't going to dance? she wondered to herself, edging closer to that table at the back, just outside of the shadows of the grand room itself.

Others were beginning to note his loneliness, too. Others who might cause trouble, jabbing at his clear out-of-placeness.

Rolling her shoulders back, Evgenia strode out of the shadows, right for the table, ensuring that those who had also been watching took note of her presence.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard above the pounding music.

He startled, his head jerking around toward her.

For a moment, she forgot why she had come over as she stared into his deep brown eyes.

"Sorry?" he asked, the word heavy with an unfamiliar accept.

She blinked, putting a smile on her face that she knew left a number of men - and women - speechless. "I said is this seat taken?" she asked again.

Slowly, he shook his head, eyes wide.

Her mother often told her that she had a face that could win wars - much as they claimed Cleopatra had done millennia before. Evgenia knew that Cleopatra had not had beauty, just brains. So she herself had ensured she had plenty of both, on the off chance that one would fail she would have the other to fall back on. She had yet to do so.

She took the seat directly beside him, fluttering her eyes. "I've never seen you here before. Are you new in town?"

"I - not really," he said, sheepish. "I've been here since February."

"At the university?"

He nodded. "Exchange program," he offered.

"I was going to ask, but I didn't know how without seeming rude," she admitted, tipping her head to the side.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her - his eyes were still slightly widened, and flickered all around her face, as though searching for something.

"I've had worse," he said, voice dropping to barely audible over the band as they finished their number.

Evgenia’s gaze immediately darted around the room, searching out those who had been watching him before. Mostly, they had returned to their own business, but a few still glanced in the direction of the table every so often. Trying to be casual about it, but clearly displeased with the presence of a stranger being so obvious about not trying to fit in.

A roar of applause cut Evgenia off before she could reply. "Here," she said, holding out a gloved hand.

Even though she wasn't allowed to perform yet didn't mean she couldn't dress the part.  
He stared at her hand for a long moment as the applause got even louder.

She leaned close so he could hear her. "You seem like you could do with a breather from the noise!" she laughed.

His gaze darted toward the crowd hovering not far away, and she knew he had been aware of the men watching him as well.

He took her hand.

Moments later, they were in the stairwell to the catwalk, seated on the cold steps across from one another. The sound was muted, but the music could still be felt through the floor, through the walls.

"Should you be on stage?" he asked after several minutes.

She leaned her head back, her eyes closed in thought, but now she blinked them back open to gaze at him. "Huh? Oh, no. I'm not a performer. Not yet, at least."

"You sure look like you're the star, for someone not even on the lineup," he said, seeming more at ease now that they were out of the throng.

She grinned - not the same dazzling smile from earlier, but something more laid back and friendly.

"One day," she nodded.

"I would like to see that, I think. Everyone here is so..."

"Loud?" she laughed.

"Different," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Japan does not have this style of dancing and singing." He was silent for a moment. “Thank you, by the way.”

She shrugged. “They’re all assholes. They don’t like people different than themselves.”

“Not many do.”

“What’d you think of the dancing, then?” she asked, changing the subject back to something more pleasant. She didn’t feel that such a deep conversation was so appropriate with someone who was a complete stranger.

“It’s something,” he smiled. “I’ve never done jazz or swing before. Like I said, Japan is a little more traditional.”

"I could teach you if you would like?"

"I - "

"Evgenia!" a voice snapped from the stairs.

They turned sharply toward the source, and Evgenia was on her feet in an instant. "Eteri!"

She forgot entirely about the young man with her as Eteri stalked up the stairs, grabbing her arm. "I thought I sent you home an hour ago? Your mother just phoned saying you hadn't arrived!"

Evgenia sucked in a breath - she hadn't even realized how late it was. "I am so sorry," she gasped. "We came up to get out of the noise and I completely forgot - "

"Go home, Evgenia. I'll see you Monday morning," Eteri said, voice softening. "You need to rest if you want to be on that stage in November."

Evgenia grinned up at her teacher, then glanced back at her companion.

"Perhaps another time?" he asked.

"She'll be here next Friday night," Eteri said, glancing toward him briefly before looking back at Evgenia. "Now go, before I call your mother back and tell her you snuck off with a boy."

Evgenia opened her mouth to protest that it hadn't been anything like that at all when she saw the twinkle in Eteri's eyes.

She nodded, a grin once more spreading over her face.

It wasn't until she was running through the street, her coat and hat on to cover her dress, that Evgenia realized she had not gotten the name of the university boy.

Oh well, she considered. She would see him again next Friday night.


	2. May 8th, 1939

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evgenia officially meets Yuzuru and learns a little more about her new friend than she was expecting to.
> 
> Turns out, they have more in common than they thought.

It was not the following Friday that she saw him, though, rather it was the following Monday as she exited the studio at the back of the Sambo.

She respected the rule of no staying on weeknights - she couldn’t if she wanted to get enough sleep to wake up in time for her private lessons with her teacher before the other girls arrived for the group lessons a little later.

Eteri had allowed her to stay later than usual today while she met with Tatiana in her office, to stand on the stage in the quiet hours between the lessons Eteri led and the explosion of sound that overtook the theatre when it opened to the public for the evening.

After, Tatiana had come out on the stage and asked Evgenia to run an errand for her.

Evgenia emerged from the studio into the early afternoon light, her shoulder bag hanging heavy, a package from Tatiana tucked within. She loved late spring and summer when classes were on break and she could spend more time practicing at the studio. One more year, and she would be allowed to focus solely on her dancing and performing. That was the agreement she had made with her mother - complete primary, and then she could take a shot at life as a performer.

“Miss Evgenia?” a remotely familiar voice said.

She turned toward it, meeting the gaze of the young man from the other night. “Yes - hello!” she laughed. “What are you doing here?”

He took a few steps toward her, clearly nervous. “I wanted to come and say hello, and also I realized that I knew your name but we didn’t properly introduce ourselves.”

“How courteous,” she smiled. She extended her hand, the other holding the straps of her bag so it wouldn’t slip. “Evgenia Medvedeva. The future star of the Sambo theatre. You may call me Evgenia.”

He grinned, taking her hand. “Hanyu Yuzuru, a university student visiting from Japan. You are welcome to call me Yuzuru,” he said, bowing his head.

“What are you up to this afternoon, Yuzuru?” she asked sweetly. “Are you off from classes today?”

“My professor actually released us early,” he said, falling into step beside her. “So I thought I might try my luck and catch you, and properly introduce myself, and see if maybe we could talk.”

She smiled up at him. “In that case, you can go with me to drop something off at the post.”

“Sure,” he smiled. “If you would then accompany me for a drive?”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him fully. “A drive? Do you have a car?”

“Not exactly, but one of my friends does and he said I could borrow it. I’ve been meaning to explore outside the city a little, but there hasn’t been anyone I’ve wanted to do it with.”

“But you want me to go with you?”

“You pique my interest, Miss Evgenia. I want to learn more about your dancing. And how you knew that those men were bad news.”

Her cheerfulness melted away as she remembered the men who had been watching him the other night, even after she had gone to his table. She had known they were not the ordinary bigots that were in surplus these days. 

“That is a long story,” she murmured. “But I am curious of your knowledge regarding them if you wish to learn mine.”

Secrets. This was a secret she had kept for a long time. Seeking out and identifying men who meant harm - not only to those who were other from themselves but more than that. She’d seen them more frequently lately, not only at the Sambo but throughout the city.

It worried her.

Yuzuru nodded his ascent and offered his arm. “Shall we go to the post then?”

Her smile returned, and she laced her arm through his. “It should only take a moment, they’re already addressed and stamped,” she informed him.

A few minutes later, they were stepping through the doors of the post office.

Yuzuru frowned at the line, and Evgenia laughed. “No worries. I have a shortcut. Wait here,” she told him.

Seconds later she was at a desk half hidden around the corner of the room heading toward a back hallway. The clerk sitting there, who had been grimacing at whatever was before him prior, grinned as he saw her approach.

“Do you have Tarasova’s packages, Ms. Medvedeva?” the clerk asked.

“I do,” she said, setting her bag on the table to pull them out. “Sorry for the delay, her meeting ran later than she planned.”

“No worries,” he shook his head. “Mikhail hasn’t come in yet for the delivery round.”

“Tell him to come back to the Sambo went they give him time off,” she chuckled. “He always makes the night more entertaining.”

The clerk nodded. “Oh, this one is addressed to you. We’ll just skip the process,” he said, handing one of them back to her.”

“Oh - thank you.”

“Until the next time,” the clerk said in farewell, standing up to take the stack packages away.

They were approaching a parked open-roof car a few blocks away when they spoke again.

“Tarasova?” he asked softly, glancing toward her.

She hummed. “A patroness of the Sambo,” she said after some consideration.

“Interesting. I’ve worked with her myself before.”

Evgenia came to a complete halt, but Yuzuru continued on to the driver’s side of the vehicle, looking back as he rounded the corner. “Are you coming?” he asked.

She stepped quickly after him. If he was implying what she thought he was… well, then he shouldn’t be, she thought to herself. But she was very interested in how he had worked with Tarasova, and why he felt that she was trustworthy enough to tell.

They remained silent as they drove to the outskirts of Moscow, and then beyond the city limits into the open countryside. They did not speak until Yuzuru parked the car on the side of the road, and turned to face her.

“How long have you been working for Tarasova as an agent?” he asked.

She snorted. “How do I know you won’t just take my information and sell it to the highest bidder? Or, better, how do I know you won’t kill me after I talk? I knew you had something going on with you - is that why those men were staring at you at the Sambo?”

He didn’t seem the type to kill people, especially not in broad daylight. And surely, if that had been his plan, he wouldn’t have let himself be seen accompanying her while the had walked through the city.

Yuzuru burst out into laughter. “I didn’t drive us out here so I could kill you or drag information out of you. I’m just curious. I’ve never really had the chance to talk to anyone about this before - I only get assignments or orders and that’s it. And things have been pretty slow since I’ve been here.”

“You’re a shit spy,” she said, her expression stone cold.

He only shrugged, causing her to burst out laughing.

“Probably. But, I think I’ve been doing alright until now. How about this? Question for a question,” he offered. “And not about national secrets or anything actually interesting.”

She tipped her head, studying him. He was looking for a friend, she realized. Someone who was like him. It was one thing to blend in, but spying and the things she had done herself on occasion, well. It left one pretty isolated.

“Fair. I don’t work for Tarasova, she just has me post and deliver things for her when she is in town. Which has not been very often lately, by the way. How do you know Tarasova?”

“She has worked with both of my… mentors,” he said. “So I have crossed paths with her several times in the past.”

“You don’t work for Japan, do you?”

“It’s my turn to ask questions!” he protested. “How long have you been doing this?”

“A few years,” she said.

“Me too. And no, I don’t work for Japan, necessarily.”

“Do you want to help me figure out more about those men?” she asked suddenly. “Off the record, no official reports to anyone. Just you and me.”

She’d never actually done any real spying before, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Just like keeping her from the stage until she was eighteen, Eteri was keeping her from doing anything that could be remotely dangerous of the intelligence gathering kind, too.

It was his turn to study her with interest. And then he nodded. “Yes.”

She grinned. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Though, what is it you think we will find?”

“I don’t know. But I just have a bad feeling, and it started when they were showing up everywhere. I’ve seen a few of them a lot. It bothers me. It feels like something big is coming.”

He nodded again. “Okay.”

She grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither of these nuggets is gonna be all that great at spying, but that's okay. They have plenty of time to learn, what with a war looming literally only a few months away.
> 
> This is meant to be kinda fun and silly to start, until the war starts being on in the background, at which point things will start becoming a little more serious.
> 
> Anywho, not sure how often I'll be updating this yet, but hopefully at least once every week or two as long as I'm motivated to keep working on it. That said, until the next one lovelies xx


	3. May 11th & 12th, 1939

####  _ May 11th, 1939 - The Battles of Khalkhin Gol began. _

Evgenia and Yuzuru had been meeting in the afternoons after Evgenia dropped the younger dancers off following the conclusion of class. They hadn’t gotten much farther than beginning to identify which of the men they saw the most often, what they looked like, and where they tended to frequent.

She wasn’t entirely sure what they would do with the information just yet, but it was a start.

Thursday morning, she was leaving the studio at the back of the theatre following a practice session, humming the song she had been singing to herself all week when she thought no one was around to hear.

Holding the door open, Evgenia twirled around the side of it as the younger girls came pouring out after her in a great rush. She counted them as they came out, making sure they had all exited before letting the door fall closed.

"Zhenya!" Alina gasped, suddenly grabbing her arm as the rest of the gaggle let out a flurry of noise. "What is that?"

Evgenia followed her raised arm toward a large group of people gathered in the square down the street, blocking traffic and making an overall raucous.

"I'm not sure," she said softly. "Girls, stay here," she instructed, raising her voice about their rapid back and forth. She was responsible for seeing them home most mornings unless their guardians came and picked them up themselves. Which was rare to occur.

"We want to see!" Alexandra said, making to bolt toward the crowd. Alina caught her arm, nearly hauling her off her feet to keep her from getting away.

Evgenia sighed. "If you want to see, then you have to stay right next to me the entire time. Am I clear?" she said.

A chorus of agreeance met her, and she sighed again before leading her gaggle down the street to investigate the commotion, Alina at her side like a second in command.

Evgenia was very fond of these girls, but sometimes they drove her positively mad.

“Stay close,” she said again, looking over her shoulder to count the line of heads bobbing after her. They immediately began to latch onto one another, holding hands or bags or sleeves.

Alina tucked her arm through Evgenia’s and nodded up at her. 

Evgenia nodded in return, then led the way into the throng.

As they were all small of stature, it was relatively easy to weave through the press of bodies and right to the edge of the crowd.

Evgenia jerked to a halt, throwing her arm out to stop Alina from going farther. “Don’t let them see!” she gasped.

They should not have come. She should have taken them directly home, without even paying any mind to this madness.

Alina took one glance, her eyes going huge before she pressed behind Evgenia and tried to turn the girls around, keeping them from seeing what was happening in the square.

Evgenia herself could not look away, gaze lost in the curling red of the flames across the square, and what looked like -

“They’re just effigies,” a male voice said at her side.

She looked up and met Yuzuru’s gaze. “Why are they doing this?” she breathed.

“The Union joined the fight against Japan this morning,” he said, voice quivering. The way he stood, half in front of her, caused the glow of the fire to outline his form.

She startled. “You shouldn’t be here. Not if they’re doing that. Not if we’re at war.”

“Neither should you or half a dozen little tiny dancers,” he countered. “You won’t be able to get out the way you came in. Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

She looked down at it - saw the tremble in his fingers. Yuzuru was terrified - her country, the people standing around her, had joined in a war on his people, and yet he was standing right here, where they could turn and attack him at any moment. If they realized where he came from, the results could be utterly terrifying.

She grabbed his hand and twisted toward the girls. “Do not look, understand? It is not real, but do not look,” she commanded, voice full of steel. “Close your eyes or look at the ground, but do not look at the square.”

They all nodded, eyes going huge once again at her tone - they knew not to argue with her when she spoke like that.

Alina, holding Evgenia’s other arm still, squeezed it tighter.

“Don’t let go,” Evgenia instructed the girls before turning back to Yuzuru, waiting patiently until she was ready.

He was gazing at her curiously. “Ready?” he said.

She nodded, and he ducked his head down as he wove into the depths of the crowd.

More people must have joined the throng while they had been standing there, she realized. The press of people on all sides made her feel as though they would be trapped in here forever - and then suddenly it was thinning, and the whole group of them tumbled out into a side street, the roaring crowd immediately dimming now that they were out of the middle of it.

Evgenia spun about, counting her girls. They were all there, but none of them looked terribly afraid. Just Alina, who’s eyes were large.

Evgenia tightened her hold on the other girl’s hand. “It wasn’t real. They weren’t real,” she murmured. “We’ll talk about it after we drop the rest of them off if you want,” Evgenia offered.

Alina nodded.

“Come on, girls,” Evgenia said, gathering them all close. She turned again to face Yuzuru, knowing the girls were all staring with curiosity. “Thank you for helping us get out.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, Miss Evgenia.”

“Yuzuru,” she said softly. “What can I do? Is there anything?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She reached out for his hand again. “Meet me tomorrow, if you can,” she said softly. “And be safe.”

He nodded, looking at the ground. “I’ll try to send word if something comes up to prevent me.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Just be safe.”

A moment later, he was gone, disappearing out the far end of the alley.

“Zhenya?” Alexandra asked. “Is there going to be a war?”

She continued to stare after Yuzuru. “I don’t know,” she breathed. “I really don’t know.”

* * *

As she lay in bed that night, there was an image burned into her mind, of the fire-blackened effigies, and another of Yuzuru standing before that roaring blaze. 

When at last she did drift off to sleep, her dreams were of burning buildings and empty streets filled with rubble and bodiless screaming.

* * *

The next morning, he was at her door.

With a quick look outside, she dragged him in.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “My mother has gone out, but if she sees you here, after yesterday -”

“I came to say goodbye,” he said quietly. “Miss Evgenia, I’m sorry. I’ve been called back home, in light of yesterday's events. They’re scared, everyone is so scared. The summons arrived this morning, and I depart in a few hours.”

“To Japan?” she asked softly, the weight of the situation settling over her.

“Yes,” he nodded solemnly. “I am sorry we cannot continue our investigation. Perhaps you will be able to continue it until I can return?”

She could see the doubt in his gaze at the thought of returning. Something big was coming and had been for weeks and months now.

She had not been alive during the Great War, did not really know what it was like in the years leading up to it besides what she had been taught in school.

Evgenia found herself nodding. “I’d rather you be safe, Yuzuru, than worry about something as trivial as finding out what those men are up to.”

“It’s not trivial, not to me. And I don’t think it is to you, either. You’re pretty good at gathering intelligence, Miss Evgenia. Whoever you report to is very lucky to have you on their side.”

She felt her face warm. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but, Yuzuru. Will you write to me? So I know you’ve made it back safely,” she asked quickly.

He smiled, nodding his head once. “Yes. I do not know that it will reach you, but if I ask I may be able to send it through the network.”

Before he vanished back through the door, Evgenia gave him a quick hug. As she stepped away again, he remained smiling at her, a sadness in his gaze that had not been there before.

“If I am able to return, I will,” he said.

“Just stay safe,” she said in answer.

Evgenia watched as he strode back down the path in front of her mother’s house, and then hurry away down the street. She did not close the door until he disappeared from her view.

When she did, she looked to the side table nearby, and her dancing bag half open on the floor beside it. The center of the envelope had  _ E.A. Medvedeva via T.A. Tarasova _ scrawled across it, and no other marking as to where it could have come, not even a stamp or a number.

She had not opened it when the clerk at the post office had handed it to her and had forgotten it entirely in the hours following as she and Yuzuru drove around the countryside and plotted. It had then become buried in the bottom of her bag until this morning it seemed when everything was still unpacked from the day before.

Eteri had canceled classes this morning, but Evgenia was asked to come in later that afternoon for a different sort of meeting.

With plenty of time before she needed to go to the studio, Evgenia pulled the envelop out and retreated to her room to read it.


	4. September 1st, 1939

_**Moscow** _

That morning, as though knowing what was to come, Evgenia was early to rise.

As she prepared for her day - Friday, a night at the club, as every Friday for the last year and a half had been - Evgenia paused, looking at the hand-wound clock at her bedside.

Her lamp illuminated it enough for her to see the hands tick, tick, tick - and pause.

She blinked.

The hands remained frozen, at 6:44 in the morning.

Around her, the world held its breath, but she felt removed from it all, as though sitting on an alternate plane of reality.

She did not want the moment to end. She knew when it did, something would have happened. Something terrible, and irreversible.

And then it was gone, and Evgenia shook herself, turning back to the mirror backing her vanity as she pinned her braids back, tucked any loose strands of hair away.

She glanced once more at the clock. It remained still, silent, those hands frozen in time.

Without a moment to consider it, she rose and crossed to her dresser, sliding open the top drawer and pulling out two envelopes.

The first she had received in May, from a stranger across the sea. He called himself Orser. He'd received her own letter dated sometime before, asking a question that only he had the answer to, according to Tatiana Tarasova.

Orser had said that, no, only Evgenia could answer her own question. But that, should the need arise, he would offer her help.

She had not yet responded.

The second letter, she had only gotten a couple weeks ago, had been dated mid-July and had arrived promptly in her hands, delivered by none other than Mikhail Kolyada himself as he flashed her a cheerful grin and warned her only to be careful, and that when she was ready to reply that she need only let him know.

She looked at both of them now, the pages worn from her constant worrying at the edges, her repeated readings, and foldings and unfoldings as she contemplated their contents.

Evgenia looked again at her frozen clock, both letters grasped in her hands.

She crossed her room again, rifling through the single drawer of her vanity for the pen she knew she had seen in there.

Evgenia only had the time to write one response, as Mikhail would be leaving on his next run in a little over an hour, and then who knew when she would have the chance to get another letter out with more than half a chance it would reach its destination?

Grasping hold of her pen, she tore a page out of the journal she kept on her nightstand and began to write in hurried, almost illegible scribbles.

She resigned herself to being late to Eteri’s class, for once in her life, as she threw on her overcoat and grabbed her bag, stuffing the letter into an envelope as she hurried her way through the door.

Evgenia could not identify what it was, exactly, that drove her. But she felt a pressing urgency that she was too late, it was too late, that something had occurred that would and could not possibly be stopped.

When she reached the street at the end of the drive leading up to her mother’s house, she broke into a run.

Mikhail saw her approach as he was exiting the post office a few minutes later, and paused, his brows furrowing at her flushed face.

Evgenia nearly careened into him in her rush, coming up only a foot shy of sending them both sprawling to the pavement. She grabbed onto his offered arm, steadying herself as she heaved in a breath.

“I need you to send something out for me,” she said in a gasp.

“Is it authorized?”

She paused. “What?”

Mikhail shook his head. “I’m guessing no. Who’s it to?” he asked, nodding at the blank-faced envelope.

“I didn’t know the address,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Ah. I can get it to him, even without.”

He took it from her, tucking it into the satchel hanging at his side.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Mikhail winked at her. “You’re gonna be alright, Zhenya.”

“Be safe, Mikhail,” she said in response.

She remained standing on the sidewalk for several long seconds as he strode off in the opposite direction toward a waiting truck, still breathing heavily.

It wasn’t until the truck roared to life that Evgenia remembered she had to get to the Sambo. Spinning about, she launched back into a run.

At least she wouldn’t need much warm up, she thought.

* * *

Tarasova was at the Sambo when Evgenia arrived, blowing in through the door like a gale, the loose strands of her hair that she had so carefully tucked and pinned back before leaving her house floating in dark wisps around her pink face.

Eteri emerged from her office as the back door to the studio fell shut behind Evgenia, a storm in her eyes as the other girls began to speak in hushed tones where they did their warm-up exercises across the room. Evgenia, never late, was about to be in for it.

But Tarasova already had a hand on Evgenia’s shoulder.

“I will be borrowing your student for today,” Tarasova announced, hardly glancing toward the Sambo’s mistress. “Evgenia is excused from class until we are done.”

The entire studio - including the girls who had only moments before been chattering like migrating birds - fell into a deathly silence.

Eteri did not protest, only pursed her lips in displeasure and stepped aside.

Evgenia, not sure which woman she was more afraid of, hesitated by the studio door.

Tarasova glanced back toward her as she neared the hall leading to the front of the Sambo, and the stage that would come to life that night. “Are you coming?”

Hardly sparing a glance toward Eteri, Evgenia hurried past, clutching the straps of her bag tightly.

* * *

Tarasova took her to a small diner down the street from the Sambo. Evgenia had hardly dare speak, aside from answering the woman’s questions with as few syllables as she could manage.

She was afraid, but not entirely sure as to why.

The streets were in an odd hush for the hour - typically, people were on their way to work or to run errands at this time. But the roads were emptier, the voices softer.

Something had happened.

The bell rang over their heads as they entered, and Tarasova immediately aimed for a table at the back, where a man sat facing away from them. No other patrons were in the diner, and the only visible member of the staff was the waitress disappearing into the kitchen.

Tarasova called out a greeting in English, and Evgenia paused.

The man turned toward them at Tarasova’s call, and his friendly face broke into a smile as he stood to greet her. And then he looked around the woman toward Evgenia, still frozen near the doorway.

Tarasova turned, too, gesturing her to come closer with a smile and a wave of her hand.

“Evgenia, dear, this is someone who has been asking to meet with you for some time now, and we were finally able to get him over here from Canada.”

“And just in time, it seems,” the man said, offering his hand to Evgenia.

She took it lightly, at a loss.

“I received your note,” he elaborated, pulling an envelope from his pocket. The same envelope she had given to Mikhail not an hour before.

“Orser,” she said, shocked.


	5. November 12th, 1940

#### Leningrad (Saint Petersberg)

####  **November 12th, 1940**

_The Soviet Foreign Minister, Vyacheslav Molotov, met with Adolf Hitler and Joachim von Ribbentrop in Berlin for a conference that would last through November 14. The main topic of discussion was defining the world spheres of influence between Germany, Italy, Japan, and the Soviet Union._

Evgenia Medvedeva stood at the rail, fingers drumming in time with the pounding music below. It had been several hours since she arrived, shortly after six, when the place had already been about bursting at the seams. Somehow, even more, people had managed to squeeze into the relatively small dance hall.

She did not actively listen to it, but she knew the singer on the stage, knew every word to the song, knew every song in the setlist. She knew every face in the ballroom below, knew their status and how they had been admitted to this gathering. She knew who was friends with who, and who was only pretending.

They were celebrating a gathering happening several countries away, one that she herself did not agree with. Not that it mattered, her thoughts on the potential alliance.

Or her thoughts on the whole damn war, if and where Eteri was concerned.

Evgenia ground her jaw, distracted by thoughts of her mentor.

They’d gotten into it, a few weeks back. It started as a heated discussion over safety and evolved into what side of the war they stood on.

Eteri said that they served the Union and the Union alone. That the other girls had joined up in this, the same as Evgenia, so why shouldn’t they be given this assignment or that assignment? They had a duty to serve the Union.

Evgenia had held as much of it in as she could. She knew that no matter what she said, her mentor would not change her stance. No matter how many tears were shed, or wounds wrapped, or minutes ticking on the clock that a girl was late to return.

Alina had returned late the night before, and Evgenia had stayed to wait for her. The younger girl had broken down in tears when she saw Evgenia, and she had held her for a long time.

Alina was strong, and would not say what had happened. But the fact that it had caused her to crack, even for that moment, made Evgenia do her own reconnaissance and break into Eteri’s office to find out where she had assigned Alina.

Evgenia had been appalled at what her friend had been sent to do, but when she tried to talk to Eteri about it, to ask her to send someone more qualified, someone who was an actual adult and knew what they were agreeing to the next time, Eteri had shut her down quickly.

Her punishment was to come here, to Leningrad, to observe. Nothing more, and nothing less. Observe the gathering - a party, really, based on the increasing volume and the amount of alcohol being consumed.

She knew it was to get her out of the way for a few days, while Eteri really decided what to do about her for stepping out of line.

For caring about the other girls and their wellbeing.

Shaking herself, she looked back out of the room, subconsciously tugging at the sleeve of her red gown. It kept slipping, due to its design to be off the shoulder, and the last months had been a series of not quite enough to keep her figure filled out. Not that it had been much before, with the rigorous training schedule at the Sambo.

Her mind darted back to a day more than a year ago, when she'd met Orser in the cafe.

_"Why am I here?"_

_"You have a choice to make, Miss Medvedeva. The world is going to war. What side will you be on?"_

She'd known. She's known that morning that something had happened. And it was that same discussion that had gotten her into trouble with Eteri, more than a year later. She'd let it sit in her mind too long, perhaps.

Orser had offered her a place with his team. To leave Russia, to leave the Soviet Union. He'd told her to think about it, and to let him no.

She never had, and now...

She shook herself. She was here to observe, so that's what she would do.

Pushing herself straighter and lifting her chin, she scanned the crowd again.

Evgenia paused, blinking at the mass of bodies below.

There was a face that should not be here, in Russia, let alone at a high-end gathering like this in Leningrad.

For several long minutes, she tracked that face, trying to piece it together in her mind. How, why.

And then she was on the main floor and wading her way through the crowd, eyes on the back of his head as he stood near the bar.

She couldn’t help but wonder - was this the reason she was here? She’d gathered in-depth reconnaissance on half the men in the room on numerous occasions in the last year, and the other half were not conceited enough to be both conniving and politically involved.

She’d checked.

But this man - no, he should not be here. Not because he wasn’t on the list - if he was as smart as she remembered, as she’d been told, he’d be using an alias. Eteri could not have known he would be here, could not have sent her here to find him.

Evgenia stopped beside where he stood speaking quietly with another from the Japanese Delegation - Uno, his name was. She’d been through his file on several occasions in the past.

“Yuzuru Hanyu,” Evgenia said, lifting her chin as the pair of them turned to face her. “I believe you owe me a dance.”

His face flickered through several emotions - recognition, surprise, confusion - before settling on soft joy, his dark eyes glittering.

He excused himself from his companion before taking her hand in his. “Miss Medvedeva.”

She led him to the crowded dance floor, seeking out any hint of space.

"I wasn't expecting I'd run into you here," he said.

"I could say the same. What is a pair of Japenese agents doing all the way over here?" she asked, voice low.

With the music pounding, it would not be easy for any straying ears to hear, but she knew it was better to proceed with caution.

"Don't you realize what it is this celebration is about?"

"Don't remind me," she said, her tone darkening.

"I'm not here on their behalf," he said, spinning her about. "Shoma may be, but we do not discuss the finer details of our assignments."

She glanced toward Uno, watching them from the bar still. "Do you trust him? Even if there is a chance you work on opposing sides?"

"I trust you," he said, startling her to stop in the middle of the step sequence. He pulled her close, keeping one hand gently at her waist.

“Why are you really here, Yuzuru?” she asked quietly.

They'd stopped dancing altogether, and her eyes searched his.

“I’m looking for someone. A contact. My… mentor. He sent me to find her. I don't know why.”

Orser had sent him here, to Russia? To Leningrad?

Wait. “ _Her_?”

“All I know is that she’s in the Soviet Union, somewhere, and her codename. I was going to see if you could help me,” he said, looking defeated. “But then everything… everything happened.”

She already had an inkling what the answer to her question was, but she needed to hear him say it. “What’s the codename?”

“Moon Bear.”

For a moment, she stared at him, contemplating telling him what he needed to know right then and there. But - it was not safe here.

“Do you have any plans for the next week, Mr. Hanyu?” she asked. “Any other assignments? Pressing matters?”

He frowned. “No, I - “

“Good. We’re going to Moscow. The train leaves at oh-six tomorrow morning. Do whatever else you’re doing here tonight, and meet me in the lobby to head to the station at four. We’ll talk about your ‘moon bear’ when we get somewhere I know is safe and secure. But not until then.”

She slid out of his grasp before he could speak to affirm or deny her instructions.

She would either see him or she wouldn't, but that was entirely up to him. She needed to think.

Yuzuru Hanyu being here, in Russia, was one thing. But that he was here and looking for Moon Bear - the name that Orser had designated as her codename at that meeting in the cafe the year before...

Evgenia had thought the time to decide had come and gone. She did not know what to think about the fact that she had been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Long time no see. Life has been life, as it does.
> 
> Please note, there was a bit of a time skip! We will revisit and touch on what we missed during the year plus that we did not see between the last chapter and this one as we get further into the story, but to keep things rolling how I have planned the jump was necessary.
> 
> I can't guarantee when the next bit will be up, but hopefully, it won't be as long as it took for me to come back for this one.


	6. November 13th, 1940

**_Train from Leningrad to Moscow_ **

"We have a few hours," Evgenia said, closing the sliding door to the private compartment after a final check that no one was lurking in the corridor. "You should rest."

Yuzuru Hanyu was leaning back against the wall, his legs stretched out on the bench before him. He'd changed out of his dress clothes from the party between the time they'd parted the night before and the time he'd arrived, right as the final whistle blasted, on the platform.

He hadn't even seemed particularly out of breath, and that had put her in a momentarily sour mood after she'd found herself wringing her hands, wondering that maybe he wasn't coming at all.

Evgenia had changed, as well, out of the eye-snaring red dress into a more muted burgundy, mostly hidden under her thick coat. She'd also pinned her hair back in a low bun, more modest, her efforts getting the lack-of attention she'd intended. She found it too easy, some days, to get by with little to no notice.

She sat down on the bench across from him, intending to pass the next few hours in silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

It seemed he had other plans.

She turned from the window, where already the countryside was flashing past in the dim light just before dawn.

"Talk about what?"

He was watching her, his gaze intent.

"What happened."

"When what happened, Mr. Hanyu?"

He scoffed, shifting to stare at the opposite wall for a moment. "I wrote to you."

Is that what he was talking about? The fact that he'd written her after they had parted ways, a year and a half before? It felt like a lifetime ago.

She was still wrapping her mind around the fact that he was here, in front of her, in the flesh.

"I know."

"You never wrote back," he said, nonchalant.

He tried to hide it, but she saw a flash of disappointment in his gaze.

"How many times did you write?" she asked. She knew the number.

"Five. And not once did you answer."

"I only got the first," she said.

She did not hear the lie on her own tongue and didn't know what that said about her. About how good she was at this game, to believe her own untruths as they fell from her mouth.

She had read all five of his letters, over and over again. The first one - the one she had neglected to answer in favor of contacting Orser - had nearly torn apart at the creases where she had folded and unfolded it. The others were not much better. She had their contents memorized.

Once upon a time, when she was maybe thirteen years old, Evgenia had seen one of Eteri's older students kissing a boy backstage. They'd been caught, and Eteri had kicked the pair of them out of the dance hall. She'd then pulled Evgenia aside.

_"Love is a fool's errand. You can choose love, or you can choose success. But as a woman, you will never be able to have both."_

In those few days, in that other life before the war, Evgenia had let herself begin to think that maybe Eteri was wrong. That Evgenia could learn how to love and to be a success. Not even with the young man sitting across from her, necessarily, but with anyone. He'd made her believe it because he'd made her see that she could have relationships, friendships, outside of the Sambo, while still being at the top.

Even Eteri had thought so, that night she'd seen them talking on the stairs. If anyone would be able to have both, it would be Evgenia.

But it had only been a few days, and then the world began to crumble and fray at the edges. Just like the letters she kept safely tucked away, pressed between the pages of the notebook she carried with her everywhere.

"I was going to answer," she said, the truth tasting worse than the lie in her mouth. "But something urgent kept me from doing so."

She could not tell him about Orser, not here. Maybe not ever. But Yuzuru was searching for Moon Bear, he was searching for _her_ , at Orser's request. It would have to come out eventually.

It hurt when she realized she didn't know if she could trust the young man sitting across from her.

"I think perhaps you should be the one to rest first," Yuzuru said softly.

Evgenia looked up, to find him staring out the window.

"I imagine that you'll have to report back to your unit when we arrive before we can go where you want to go to talk."

She had forgotten that detail of why she'd been in Leningrad in the first place, and frowned. "I can't rest."

The truth was that Evgenia had hardly slept more than a few hours a night in the past days and weeks, and had only gotten a handful in total since Alina had returned, her eyes full of tears and her body full of pain from a mission she should never have been sent on.

"When did you last sleep?" he asked.

Evgenia was suddenly sick of this game. "If I tell you that, how do I know you won't try to overpower me and get information?"

"What?" he asked, convincing enough that for a moment she thought he really was completely blindsided by her words. "Evgenia, what the hell are you talking about?"

Or maybe he was, and her lack of sleep was making her more paranoid than she had been before.

"How do I know that I can trust you?"

"You trusted me before," he said, swinging his legs around to plant his feet solidly on the floor. "Twice."

An image of him standing before her, hand held out, with a fire blazing behind him, flashed across her mind. She'd pushed the memories of that day down deep, for several reasons. One being that that was the day she'd lost the first person she'd considered a true friend outside of the girls at the Sambo.

The other being that that had been the beginning of what she thought of as the end of the world as she knew it.

"I cannot convince you to trust me, I realize that," he said when she continued to sit in silence. "But you trusted me to help you before. With those thugs and with getting to safety. And I'm putting my entire trust - my entire life - in your hands, by being here, by coming with you to Moscow."

She nodded, but still did not speak. He was trusting her, more than anyone had in the last year, except perhaps her own mother. He was willingly putting his life at risk to get information about Moon Bear when she was sitting right there across from him.

"You do need to rest, though," he said again, sounding defeated. "I need to get that information, so until I do I can promise that I won't let anything happen to you and that you shouldn't worry about me double-crossing you until then. I don't care about any of Russia's secrets. I just need to find my contact."

Evgenia believed him. She knew, without a doubt, that the words he spoke were completely true.

"We only knew each other for a week," she said, at last, trying to keep any hint of emotion from her eyes or her tone.

If he were to ask her, she told herself that she would say the truth this time. If he said the words he'd written in that last letter, she'd say them too.

"Out of my entire time in Moscow, those were the best days," he said. "The mission that we did... it made me remember why I started working intelligence. Why I enjoyed it. These days, though, not as much."

She opened her mouth to tell him that she'd succeeded in completing the mission. That she'd found their hideout, and that Eteri had smiled at her with pride. That her success there had led to her becoming one of the best under Eteri's tutelage in something other than dancing and performance.

That's what being in intelligence was, Evgenia reminded herself, closing her mouth. A performance.

Yuzuru didn't seem to notice that she had been about to speak, as he continued on.

"I have thought about you nearly every day since I fled back to Japan," he said, raising his gaze from where it had been on the floor to meet hers.

And there it was.

The very last line from his very last letter, dated exactly one year after the Soviet Union and Japan had gone to war and Yuzuru had had to return home.

The one that had made her write a response that was doomed to never be sent, as Eteri had kept her busy on assignment after assignment, and whenever she was home Mikhail would be off on his own assignments. She didn't trust anyone else to get the letter to him.

"You can't say that kind of thing," Evgenia said, shaking her head.

Except she had told herself that she would tell him the same, just moments ago. But her mind and her tongue did not seem to be connected. She went to try again, but this time the words would not come at all.

"And why not?" he asked, watching her flounder, curiosity trying to drown out the flash of hurt she saw in his eyes.

She stood up, taking a moment to find her balance as the train swayed from side to side, pacing the small compartment in tight circles. "This isn't the same world as what it was when we knew each other before," she said, one hand pushing through her hair, mussing the effort she'd put into taming it earlier. "I'm not that person. Do you see the problem? You've thought of me as who I was then. And I'm not her, and I never will be."

She'd pushed aside any and all thoughts of that possible future a long time ago, only allowing herself consideration of the person who was in the letters, and nothing more.

"Everyone changes over time," he said. "I know that."

She was about to respond when a knock came at the door, and it slid open.

Both of them turned, startled, toward the woman standing in the doorway, dressed in a grey pantsuit, her short dark hair pulled back in a loose tail at the nape of her neck.

A name flashed through Evgenia's mind - _Elizaveta_.

"Tuktamysheva," Evgenia said curtly. 

"Evgenia Medvedeva," the woman said with a slow smile. "I've been looking for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI AGAIN.
> 
> I'm glad I'm not the only one still screaming over the worlds selections (@ the other still frequently active authors in this tag, I love ya'll)
> 
> I would have been happy with either Zhenya or Liza, though I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a preference or that I literally was nearly in tears of happiness at work when I read that Zhenya had been selected.
> 
> Some notes about the story - I'm slowly starting to figure out a few of the side plot things to help keep it interesting, hence Liza's appearance. I have a general end goal for where things are headed, but between point A and Z there are still quite a few unknowns for me so I'm very excited to see where it takes me. I'm a big believer in letting stories sort themselves as they go.
> 
> Until the next time (maybe before, maybe after Worlds. I don't know. All I know is I will be a mess that entire week no matter what happens)


	7. November 13th, 1940 (cont.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm still screaming (quieter now) over how Worlds finished.

_**Outskirts of Moscow** _

It seemed though time had skipped the moment Elizaveta Tuktamysheva appeared in the doorway to their private compartment, and they were beginning to slow down as the train approached the station on the outskirts of Moscow.

"We need to talk," Elizaveta said, eyes flicking toward Yuzuru, who sat with wide eyes on his bench.

"It seems everyone needs to talk to me the last twelve hours," Evgenia said, sitting back down on her bench. She gestured to the small space. "Please come in. He's completely harmless until he gets his information," she added, nodding toward Yuzuru.

"Does he understand Russian?" Elizaveta asked, glancing toward him once more as she entered the compartment, sliding the door shut behind her.

"No, we've been talking in English," Evgenia said, the lie falling easily from her lips. To emphasize, she switched to English herself to tell him, "She is a friend, we will be speaking a few moments. We will get back to our... conversation when we arrive."

Yuzuru nodded and his face shifted to take on an expression of vague disinterest, settling back into the corner to pretend that he hadn't the slightest idea what they were saying. 

Elizaveta settled onto the bench beside Evgenia, still watching Yuzuru warily for a moment longer before she faced the other young woman. Her voice was low when she spoke again. "Where have you been the last three days?"

"Leningrad, on assignment," Evgenia said, wary. She trusted Elizaveta nearly as much as she trusted the other girls from the Sambo, from before the war.

"She sent you up there?" Elizaveta asked, clearly taken aback.

Evgenia was puzzled. Their train had left from Leningrad only a few hours ago at most, had it not? "I didn't know that you particularly cared where Mishin's fellows sent their agents."

"I don't," Elizaveta said, leaning back against the wall with a faint smile on her mouth. "I do have an interest on what you've been up to lately, though. I heard a rumor."

Evgenia did not like what that did or did not imply.

"What is it you need from me, Liza?" Evgenia asked, trying to keep the sharpness from her voice. "We're near to the station, and I have other business to take care of before reporting in."

She'd known Elizaveta for some time since they were girls themselves. Most recently, she'd come to know Elizaveta as someone who worked under Alexei Mishin's unit in the USSR intelligence federation. The agents, especially the girls like Evgenia and Elizaveta and all the others at the Sambo, were not that well known to one another outside of their own units. The focus was always on the men, making the girls all the better at playing the game and winning.

It was easier to get the job done when no one realized that you were a potential threat.

Except when being placed into life-threatening situations, as seemed to be happening more and more and more.

"You need to leave Tutberidze."

Evgenia nearly missed Yuzuru's flinch at the name in her own startled jerk. Not because she was caught off guard, but because Elizaveta seemed to speak the exact thing that had fluttered into her mind more than a few times in the recent weeks.

It had hovered there the longest in the days before Alina had been hurt. After, Evgenia had not fully considered it again. She needed to stay, to look out for the others. No one else would.

Moreover, the fact that Yuzuru knew Eteri's name, and now knew that she was Evgenia's mentor and unit leader, did not sit well. It pressed on her chest like a brick. She forced it away so she could speak again.

"I wasn't aware Mishin was the type to go meddling in the affairs of his fellows," Evgenia said between her teeth.

Elizaveta took a moment to at least look surprised before amusement flickered in her pale eyes. "He isn't. He doesn't know I'm here, or that I even left Leningrad. The Federation sent me."

"I'm sorry?" Evgenia said, blinking rapidly as she leaned forward. Surely she'd misheard.

"This is not a game for little girls playing spy," Elizaveta said, her voice that quite murmur again. "It's not a place for you, or me, or even him -" here, she tilted her head toward Yuzuru on the other bench, "- but we at least know and understand the consequences to some degree. They do not and cannot. And the Federation thinks that they should not have to. They are fifteen, sixteen years old at most. But they look like little girls, and that makes it so much more dangerous for them. The Federation knows this."

"But?" Evgenia prodded. This might be too much. She had had these thoughts herself before. She fought against looking at Yuzuru, wanting to know how he was taking this. If maybe he should not be listening to this conversation after all.

Elizaveta sighed. "There is an assignment, and the Federation has asked its unit leaders to select candidates. Would you like to guess who Tutberidze choose?"

Not Evgenia. Not for something that the Federation was running - Evgenia knew that at this point, Eteri would never consider her for such a thing. All because she cared about the other girls. Aside from the fact that Eteri would have been plotting and planning with her over it already if she had.

"I don't have to. But why do I have to leave? I may as well be nothing to her anymore. I'm as much a burden as a benefit."

Elizaveta's brow rose in a silent question. Not as agents working for occasionally opposing units, but as one-time friends who had grown apart over the years, as happens when living in different cities miles and miles apart.

"She sent Alina practically into a trap," Evgenia said softly. "I should have been the one to go, as the only one who had been in that kind of situation before. But I let that go, because I know I cannot do everything she needs all of the time, and I already had an assignment. But then Alina was hurt, badly."

She explained the entire thing, as she had experienced it, as well as what few details Alina had given to her. Elizaveta remained silent, even several moments after she had finished.

"That is why you have to leave her," Elizaveta said, nodding. "If you go, then it will create enough of an uproar."

"I'm not leaving those girls," Evgenia protested, nearly standing from her seat in earnest. If anything she said that day was it truth, it was that. "If I don't stay, things will only get worse."

"I wasn't finished," Elizaveta said, putting her hands out to try to calm her. "We need you to leave so that we can get them out."

Evgenia went completely still. In her mind, a plan fell into place, piece by piece.

After a moment of considering, she nodded. "Who else is working with you?"

"Kolyada, always. Samodurova."

"Is that enough? Samodurova is hardly older than any of them."

"It will have to be," Elizaveta said. "And she is seventeen now. It's not much, but I've seen her work. And Mishin is careful not to push her."

Unlike Tutberidze and the girls at the Sambo.

Evgenia was suddenly reminded that they were still on the train as the whistle shrieked, and the entire train car shuddered as it slowed even more.

"Friday night," Evgenia said quickly. "The Sambo will be open to the public. We can use that, too. What do I need to do?"

"Make a distraction. Keep her busy. And then get out as quick as you can, as far as you can."

Evgenia nodded. She had an idea of where to go, where she could lay low for a few days until she could clear the city entirely.

"And the girls?" she asked.

"We'll take care of the girls."

"Do you promise that they will be safe?"

Elizaveta nodded, solemn. "On my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love both Evgenia and Yuzuru so much, honestly from the year they have had they did a lot more than I was personally expecting, especially back in November/December. Also super proud of Jason and Gabby and Jun for how well they did.
> 
> We're starting to get into some of the action for real now, and it'll go for a few chapters maybe before simmering down a bit again. I have a vague plotline/storyline that I'm following now, so that's a great wonderful thing.
> 
> Until the next time, lovelies.


	8. November 15th, 1940

**Moscow**

**Friday, late morning**

“If you ask me again, I’m not going to answer any of your other questions,” Evgenia said sternly.

She was finishing packing her suitcase, her dance bag already full and waiting neatly against the wall near her bedroom door, where Yuzuru was currently standing with a hint of desperation in his eyes.

He had asked to come along to the Sambo no fewer than seven times since breakfast a few hours before, and at least a few dozen since they’d stepped through the doorway into her mother’s house two days before.

That had been an interesting way to arrive home, Evgenia thought again.

Her mother had been at the station when the train arrived, giving Evgenia an excuse not to go directly to the Sambo and report to Eteri. And, forcing her hand in deciding what to do with Yuzuru until the end of Friday night, when she would be making her grand exit from the Sambo.

Her mother had insisted that he stay in their guest room, as Evgenia’s grandmother was at her house in the country. She had remembered him, from the few meetings the summer before last, and was pleased to see he was doing well and staying healthy, and staying as much out of the conflict as anyone in their line of work could.

It nearly drove Evgenia to annoyance at how her mother welcomed him, particularly as he had been nothing but courteous to his hostess while constantly bombarding Evgenia with question after question, very few of which she’d answered in more than a handful of words.

She did not remember him being so conversant before, nor so demanding.

“I want to help,” he said now, looking at the floor.

Evgenia sighed, turning away from her open suitcase to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked like a kicked puppy, and she hated that he was making her feel bad for trying to keep him out of this. All she wanted to do was make sure he was out of the way and not caught up in things that did not directly concern him.

“Why do you want to help so badly that you refuse to take no for an answer?” she said, tilting her head as she asked the question.

When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I know you’re Moon Bear.”

Evgenia allowed herself to still but kept her face blank, determined not to let her expression show anything. “And what makes you think that to be the truth?”

“I was told that Moon Bear was in the Soviet Union and that she would be working under someone very well known, but not exactly for the right reasons. The well-known commander, I mean.”

“So you assume that because practically everyone knows who Eteri Tutberidze is that it’s her and that because I’m one of her agents I must be Moon Bear?” she asked, lifting her brow.

He had the audacity to smile at her. “You’re much better at this than I remember you to be, Medvedeva.”

“I’m taking that as you don’t remember me very well and that you definitely don’t know anything about me now,” she said, turning back to her packing. "You're much worse at this than I remember you to be, _Hanyu_."

She had considered briefly, after they’d had time to rest and eat something, asking him to come along and play lookout for her, and test his capabilities out. She didn’t really know much about how he was in action, seeing as the only time they’d worked together had been strictly information gathering.

Not that she was planning on a whole lot of action, but sometimes things got out of hand. As she knew from experience, and from watching the girls at the Sambo come back with pale faces from missions that had taken an unexpected turn.

Honestly, it was lucky that Alina was the only one to see any major injury. The day was fast approaching when one of them would go out and never return. Evgenia was determined to not let that day ever come.

Evgenia had gone to report to Eteri the morning after their arrival, a day later than she had intended to. When Eteri raised a brow in silent question, Evgenia simply said the truth - her mother had collected her from the train station and taken her home, against any protests Evgenia may or may not have had.

“And the Japanese man?” Eteri had asked, her tone chilling Evgenia to the core. “I was told he is an old friend of yours?”

She had explained it off as he was in town on assignment and that they had simply run into one another on the train. Nothing more, nothing less, and surely not offering any indication that he was staying at her house.

And then Eteri had truly frightened her. “If he is seen on the premises, or if I find out the pair of you are colluding, there will be consequences, Zhenya.”

“I think I know you a little more than not at all,” Yuzuru said, breaking Evgenia out of her thoughts.

She laughed. “Okay, supposing hypothetically that I am Moon Bear, what do you do now that you’re here?”

“Take you with me to France, and then Canada.”

“Why the hell would you take me to France? It’s under Nazi control,” she said, before remembering that Japan and Germany were in fact allies and that the Soviet Union may or may not join them.

He gave her that pretentious smile again. “I’ll tell you if you admit that you really are Moon Bear. Orser was very specific with what I should and should not reveal prior to finding my target.”

“Of course he did,” Evgenia said, blowing out a breath and looking over her shoulder toward him. Now was as good a time as any. “As you seem so keen on playing guessing games, do I need to show you actual proof or are you going to just accept my word as you insist it to be true anyway?”

“I mean, I’m assuming you’re Moon Bear, but I wouldn’t mind seeing proof if you have it,” Yuzuru said, shrugging one shoulder. He was fighting against a grin.

“If you don’t wipe that smug look off your face, I’m going to very unpleased. It’s been a very long last few days, no thanks to you in any way,” she said, moving toward the bedside table where her journal rested.

Flipping through the pages that she’d hidden letters between, Evgenia scanned for one of the few letters that Orser had sent to her. She settled on the one he’d given to her personally, at the end of their meeting at the diner a little over a year before.

“Here,” she said. “His signature and my codename in his writing.”

He didn’t move from the doorway, his respectful propriety winning out over his desire to confirm what he already suspected.

“You’re not going to burst into flames by coming into my room,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The door’s open, and you're not breaking any rules. Aside from the fact that if I know anything its that you’re a gentleman.”

Yuzuru entered the room cautiously, as though entering uncharted enemy territory. Taking the letter, he barely scanned it before handing it back to her.

“Great. Now, tell me how to help tonight.”

Evgenia snapped the journal shut with one hand, not taking her eyes from him. “You can help by staying well out of the way.”

“Not going to happen,” he said, taking half a step forward into her personal space.

She did not back down. Evgenia drew herself up to her full height, tilting her head in a way that often made people who were taller than her feel as though she were looking down on them.

“Oh, but it will. If you expect me to go with you, blindly, to France after this, then you’re going to do exactly as I tell you,” she said. She felt herself getting warm from his proximity, but she'd be dammed if she backed down before he did.

After a few moments of staring off, Yuzuru conceded, taking a few steps away from her.

Evgenia covered up her sudden feeling of being flustered by turning and picking up a well-worn copy of  _ Anna Karenina  _ that had been under the journal. Both went into the inner pocket of her suitcase.

Yuzuru had sat down on the chair in front of her vanity, so now she was caught staring at her own reflection over his shoulder. She watched herself settle back against the edge of the bed, then looked down to focus on smoothing a few creases out of her skirts.

“Will you tell me why you do not want me to help?” Yuzuru asked after several more seconds of silence.

“Will you stop asking questions until after tonight is over if I tell you?” she sighed.

He grinned. “If its a good enough reason.”

Evgenia closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “I will not put you at more risk for something that does not concern you. This is an internal matter.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.

He gave a slight nod. “Very well. I don’t fully like it, but I understand.”

A weight seemed to lift from her.

“Where should I meet you after? You can not come back here, its the first place they’ll look.” He paused, realizing something. “Your mother - “

“Didn’t you notice it has been oddly quiet? She left this morning after breakfast,” Evgenia said softly. “Honestly, I’m really beginning to think you’re not as good at this as you say you are.”

“What?” he said startled. “But -”

“She knows,” Evgenia said. The simplest explanation. “She’s gone to my grandmother, where they’ll be safe. From the war and from this… whatever this is.”

Something seemed to dawn on him then - his eyes flashed and his brows lifted a fraction. “She was in the last war.”

Evgenia shrugged, not wanting to discuss that particular point any further. Like there was much to say about it, anyway. Everyone had been in the last war, and everyone would be in this one. 

“I’ll give you an address,” she said instead. “When you get there, you tell him that Janny Babasyan sent you. He’ll make sure you’re taken care of and safe until I arrive. We’ll stay a few days, and then we can discuss France.”

She met his gaze and the dozen of questions in them. For a moment, she wished she could stop time, just like so long ago when the world seemed to hold its breath. The moment that, she learned after, had been when the war began.

But there was no time to pause and ask and answer all the questions they had to ask and answer. Evgenia needed to be to the Sambo in a few hours, to help prepare for the night to come.

“If you follow me,” she said, “I will be reconsidering coming with you to France.”

Yuzuru’s gaze immediately dropped. “I understand.”

She blew a puff of air through her nose, turning back to double check she had everything packed that she would need for who knew how long on the road.

* * *

A little while later, they stood outside her house, both holding their own luggage.

Evgenia pressed a folded paper, with a name and an address scrawled across it. “I will see you either late tonight or very early tomorrow morning,” she said.

He nodded.

“Go directly there, and tell him to expect me. You can tell him what you know, too, if you want. He’ll understand.”

Yuzuru unfolded the paper, his eyes widening a fraction at the name. The flash of recognition was gone in an instant, and Evgenia frowned that she would have to wait to find out what it was for.

“I will see you tonight,” he said quietly, nodding again. 

Evgenia turned to head toward the Sambo.

“Be safe,” he said suddenly. “Please.”

She paused, looking back at him. At the earnestness in his gaze as he watched her.

Yuzuru Hanyu, one of the most well-known agents to a large amount of the international spy community, needed her for some reason. But at the moment, Evgenia could not for the life of her understand why.

She gave a small nod of her head and turned once more toward the Sambo. She still had to do perhaps the most difficult thing she had ever done in her life - turn her back on the place that had been her home, and the people that were as much her family as anyone could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update soon, I've been a bit busier with work/adulting things than usual. As I've said before, I know where this story is taking me (for the most part) so hopefully, it won't be too long before the next update.


End file.
